Butt Dialing
by xXKanpekiXx
Summary: Stan's butt betrays him to his best friend. STYLE.
1. Prologue

Yes! This is my second time posting a South Park fanfiction and, similarly to the first one, it is indeed a STYLE fic. I was watching South Park as I typed this up. But I did write this in Spanish class and Math class. My teacher picked it up once, but decided that it was not worth discouraging my writing, so she let it go.

I had a wonderful Halloween. Did you guys? I decided that next year, I should be Cartman. You know, sumo suit, cut bangs short so I look like a boy. Sounds fun, right? I think I shall give it a try.

On an unrelated note, on Friday and Saturday, I went to a ocean-side restaurant (different ones each day). Each time, I got ripped on for being half-Japanese. "WHALES AND DOLPHINS" We saw a seal and my step dad yelled "GET YOUR SPEAR!" I said "False alarm, just a seal...FUCK YOU WHALE! FUCK YOU DOLPHIIIIN!" Of course, someone who didn't watch South Park overheard us and we got the weirdest look. Oh well. It was funny.

I'm wasting space and running out of BS, so here is the actual information worth reading...kind of. HERE:

This is just the prologue. The next chapter will have the phone conversation as it was recorded. The chapter after will be back with Kyle and some explanation, if it's needed.

So, without further ado, HERE IT IS:

* * *

Kyle closed the door gently, pressing it back with his shoulder blades as he sunk down to the floor. His knees dragged inward and he rested his head on the caps, straining his legs to the point of slight discomfort. He sighed, bringing his arms around to cradle his massive headache.

After a few minutes, once the shrill cries of his mother ceased their ringing in his tired ears, Kyle picked himself up off of the floor and tossed his backpack onto the unmade bed. His mother tended to sacrifice the cleanliness of her own house to further her crusades.

This time, Sheila Broflovski was "poking her fat fucking Jew nose into the Simpsons' business" as Cartman so eloquently put it.

Kyle moved quickly to his computer, eager to tell his best friend of the trails that awaited him for the upcoming week.

It was around 5:00. Stan was probably finished with football practice and on to the academic procrastination segment of his night. What happened next usually depended on Kyle.

If Kyle could escape his mother's sharp talons, and log onto his instant messenger, Stan would converse with him for the remainder of the evening, leaving any homework he had until the morning of.

Conversely, if Kyle was an internet no-show, he was forced to trudge through his assignments.

Kyle was disappointed, however, to discover that their routine had been broken.

He allowed himself another sigh, eyes lingering on the italicized offline screen name just one moment longer than he should have. He always felt so alone when his mother was rampaging about.

Kyle was now staring unadulterated boredom in its ugly face.

He'd finished his homework while he was waiting to tutor the kids at the library for his community service. It had been a slow session and he managed to finish all of his homework for the next two days and there were no tests looming on the horizon to study for. There were no movies to watch, no new episodes of "Terrance and Phillip" to see.

Kyle had absolutely nothing to do.

It was just as Kyle began to consider his first wave is dissuasion against his mother's newest war that a sharp cheer sounded from the bed. The "Terrance and Phillip" theme song rang from some isolated pocket in his backpack, moving the zippers with the intense vibration. He dove, determined to tunnel his phone out before the call went to unbearably dorky nasal voicemail.

Kyle was sick the day he got his new phone and, upon reflection, it was not a good idea to set a message while he was hazing in and out.

It was also not a good idea because Kyle forgot how to chance it the next day.

After fair warning by Stan the first time he couldn't make it to the phone in time, Kyle was careful to always answer his phone just in case Cartman was calling. No reason to give him more ammo.

It was Stan calling him this time. As he flipped the top of his phone open to answer the call, he wondered whether or not this was Stan's rampant butt dialing again. He'd calculated the odds earlier, totaling around 50 percent. The last time he got a call from Stan, it was to ask him to come over and play Halo, so he figured that this was probably a butt dial.

He said "Hello?" waiting for a reply that he was almost certain wouldn't come. After a few moments, his suspicions were confirmed when he heard voices, vague and fuzzy in the background.

Kyle was about to hang up, reminding himself to rip on Stan for his butt's affinity for calling him when he heard his best friend's voice, rising in volume...

* * *

YAY FINISHED IT!


	2. Message 1

I was so touched by the warm reviews the prologue recieved that I simply could not wait to post. I wrote this short little chapter in Spanish and part of math class. I decided to break the chapters up by the phone messages and their subsequent consequences.

**I apologize if it's hard to understand who is talking in this chapter. If it would help, I would gladly add names to the side. Just let me know.**

Anyway, I got the nicest compliment ever today. My birthday is coming up and my friend threatened to buy me a Clannad DVD. I forcefully protested since we have this whole Clannad complex. He mentioned the price of figurines and the DVDs. I said "That's too expensive. You wouldn't do that." And there it was. Ready?

"Nothing's too expensive to make you feel pain."

XD That made my day. Probably my week, month, year, life. Anyway, onto the story.

* * *

Stan Marsh to Kyle Broflovski

5:12 p.m., Wednesday, March 16th.

"So what's up, Wendy?"

"Stan, I just wanted to apologize for what Clyde did the other day."

"Why? Clyde did it, Clyde paid for it. He learned the hard way that writing on my locker is a really bad idea."

"Wait, what? Learned the hard way?"

"Yeah, I got him back good."

"Stan!"

"Wendy, what happens between men stays between men. Clyde was being a jealous aspirate because he wanted my spot on the football team and we settled it. End of story. I don't see you are concerned with this."

"He didn't do it because he was jealous."

"What?"

"Oh, Stan! I feel terrible about this, but I was…you had…oh that's no excuse. Well, when you broke up with me, I started dating Clyde and I let the reason you dumped me slip…"

"You mean…He knows?"

"Don't worry! I made him promise me he wouldn't say anything to anyone. Oh god, Stan, I'm so sorry!"

"…"

"…"

"Wendy, if this gets out…"

"It won't."

"It can't reach Kyle, no matter what."

"It won't Stan, I swear it."

"…"

"…"

"…Well, we should be getting home. Need me you talk you back?"

"No thanks, Bebe's going to pick me up."

"Ok…goodbye Wendy…"

"…Bye Stan…I'm…I'm so sorry."

"…"

Call ended 5:19 p.m., Wednesday, March 16th.

* * *

BULLSHIT CLIFFHANGER!


	3. Chapter 1

Oh my goodness I totally skimped on the last half of this chapter. I am sorry. I'm hoping the next one will be better. It was rushed and I was watching Bruno while I wrote it. I will try to edit this later.

I've been feeding my South Park addiction lately. Uhh I will write more stuff when I have time for it.

Enjoy my crappy writing.

* * *

What the fuck.

WHAT THE FUCK!

"It can't reach Kyle."

_'It can't reach me? What…I…what can't he tell me? I thought we were super best friends!'_

Kyle collapsed onto his bed, losing control of his legs as his knees went weak in the worst way.

He was shocked.

Stan.

Stanley Marsh.

Stan was hiding something from him, something big. He'd even specifically requested it be kept from Kyle! Style worried insistence cycled through Kyle's head, confusion compounding heavily on his headache.

"Wendy, if this gets out…It can't reach Kyle."

A warm sickly feeling began to rise in his stomach, making his mouth salivate and taste of a rich, gross copper. (Who ever said Stan was the only one who puked under emotional distress). His eyes watered as he clutched his abdomen, curling into the pain and the vile pressure. As the cramps rolled across his front, Kyle grimaced as the first tear overflowed the side of his eye and paddled down his face. It splashed silently onto his blue 500-thread count sheets and soaked into the mattress.

Once the stomach sickness had passed and Kyle lay in his little ball of angst feeling pathetic and emaciated of energy. He was hurt and with each burning tear, Kyle wondered why he cared so much, why he'd been so affected. It was a stinging sort of devastation.

He should have been worried.

He should have insisted on his concern and assure Stan that no dark little secret he had could ever wreck their super best friendship.

He should have been mad.

He should have told Stan to fuck himself in a back alley for keeping something from him.

But instead, he cried.

He cried quietly, every once in a while suppressing a sob, feeling like an oversensitive pussy. The streams of tears stopped at around 6:30, giving Kyle just enough time to mop up his muddled face and sew on a smile for dinner.

After he finished his roasted potatoes and cleared his plate mournfully, he trudged his way back up the stairs without a further word to his family.

He glanced at the computer screen which had reverted to his screensaver, a picture of himself and Stan in Aspen.

Smiles were stretched across both of their tired, winter-bitten faces and their arms were draped around each other's shoulders. Kyle's hair was beginning to escape from his hat, red dripping tangles plastered against his sweaty forehead. Stan's hair was emerging too, but it stuck to the sides of his heads instead. They looked a mess, sweaty and exhausted from their plight down the bunny slopes and without their glistening counterpart, either boy would have looked completely ridiculous.

In the picture, however, they just looked happy.

That awful nauseous feeling reared its ugly head once more as Kyle gazed at the exuberant grinning faces. He shifted over to his desk and shook the mouse violently, dispelling the image and the subsequent stomach pains.

That is, until he saw the orange flashing tab on his tool bar. IM with GuitarZero.

Kyle popped the window open, struggling harshly against his desire to hit the power button in the hard drive.

**GuitarZer0: **Hey dude.

**RockerJew: **Hi, Stan.

**GuitarHer0: **You won't believe the shit Clyde pulled today.

**RockerJew:** Hm?

**GuitarZer0: **That asspirate spray painted my locker!

**RockerJew: **What a douche!

**GuitarZer0: **You're telling me. He'd better clean that crap up.

**RockerJew: **Why do you think he did it?

**GuitarZer0: **How the hell am I supposed to know?

**RockerJew: **Well, what did he write on your locker?

**GuitarZer0: **I don't know…I didn't really get a good look.

**RockerJew: **Dude how did you not get a good look at it? It was on your locker.

**GuitarZer0: **No it's just they were already cleaning it off and I couldn't make it out.

**RockerJew: **Then how did you know it was Clyde that did it?

**GuitarZer0: **What?

**RockerJew: **How did you know Clyde was the one who sprayed your locker?

**GuitarZer0: **Oh…I guess I don't know for sure…

**RockerJew: **Stan, what the hell? That was kind of weird. What is going on? Is there something you want to tell me?

**GuitarZer0: **Where did that come from? I'm totally fine. Nothing to talk about.

**RockerJew: **You sure?

**GuitarZer0: **Oh yeah I'm fine. Hey Kyle, my dad wants to use the computer. I'll talk to you tomorrow, ok?

**RockerJew: **…Yeah, bye.

The chat, awkward in ways previously thought unimaginable by the super best friend. Kyle went to bed feeling like pure unfettered shitballs.

~*~*~*~

At South Park High School, the walls were a dull monotonous gray, a perfect complement to the ambiance set by the strenuous torture that was the public school system.

Kyle, inwardly thankful for the gloom, slinked along the hallways, purposefully avoiding his usual morning spot out by the flagpole. He traced his fingers lightly over the cool metal lockers, thoughts drifting to Stan's locker. It was in the adjacent hall, probably smelling of paint remover. His suspicions were confirmed when an angered boy with his shirt covering his nose muttering something about an industrial strength stench.

Kyle sighed and forgot every notion he had of inspecting the locker. He spent a few seconds more skimming the frozen metal surface before peeling away at the bell and moving to his first class. Thankfully, Stan wasn't in his class.

But Wendy sure was.

She approached him, sweet smile on her face.

"Hey Kyle." She chirped, stretching out his name in a manner almost reminiscent of Cartman's awful drawl.

"Hi, Wendy." He said dismissively, hoping she was only there for a greeting.

She wasn't.

"Stan had something to show you this morning. He said you weren't at the flagpole."

"Yeah, I got here kind of late and I had to throw something in my locker before class." Kyle scrambled for an excuse.

"Oh yeah, that's cool, but Stan said he wanted to show you at lunch."

"Oooh, lunch isn't good for me either. Butters wanted to eat with me today, so I won't be able to meet at lunch."

"How about after school then?"

"That's not good either, mom wants me to run home. She needs help with her new crusade."

"Kyle, is there something up?"

"Nah, it's just her usual crap."

"No, Kyle, I mean with Stan. Are you mad at him or something?"

"Of course not, Wendy! I am just really busy today. Maybe he can show me tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, I guess so. But…I don't know…I just didn't think you would ever choose eating with Butters over lunching with Stan."

"Well, I kind of gave Butters my word and that means something to me."

"It almost means as much as a paycheck."

Saved by the racist.

The familiar hateful drone came from behind Wendy as Cartman loomed his head into view.

"Shut up fatass!" Cartman was about to retort with something even more outrageously offensive, but defected when the bell to begin class rang.

Kyle did as he said the rest of the day, enduring the mindless Butters chatter all through the 35 longer-than-normal minutes of lunch. He ran home, concentrating straight ahead when he saw Stan's figure looming in the background. Shutting the door in the frustrated manner that was usual in the Broflovski household, Kyle sighed and threw his school supplies down. It wasn't long before his phone rang and he reached hesitantly to pick it up. He groaned, seeing it was Stan. He knew he was going to regret his choice, but he answered the phone. He opened with a lamenting greeting but heard only scattered phrases.

* * *

Finished. I can almost guarantee that the next chapter will be a million times better.


	4. Message 2

So...tired....so very tired. What a rough week. Last one before break. Dragged on FOREVER! 5 quizzes, two tests, a midterm, and a gigantic project all in 4 days. Fucking ridiculous.

**Things Worth Notice: (1)**I've posted a new poll on my profile. Since I will be devoting a fair amount of time to my novel, there will be even less attention paid to my adorable fanfictions. If you want this one to be continued during the holiday season, please go to my profile and vote for it. **(2)** If I do not get around to posting more, then I'll take this opportunity to say HAPPY HOLIDAYS! (Non-denominational and therefore unoffensive).

**Other Less Important Things: (1) **I find having a Youtube account and not using it irritating. Would the public prefer Pastafarian services, book/series reviews, or opinionated appeals?

**Random Musings: (1)** This kid pretty much called me out in Lang class. Not a good idea. I have too many friends in that class. The teacher ended up siding more with me than him. It was wonderful. We now refer to him as Jow-Hoe after a series of (un?)fortunate typos. **(2) **I have to read Cold Mountain and analyze it. I read the description. I'm in for a hellish ride. **(3) **Once again, thanks for the support and have a happy holiday season!

* * *

Stan Marsh to Kyle Broflovski.

3:36 p.m., Thursday, March 18th.

"...Why did you bring me out here, Stan? I told you before, Kyle had to go home so he could help his mother protest. He went home. There's absolutely nothing weird about that. Everyone goes home at some point; you will once you realize you're overreacting."

"Wendy, can't you see that I'm not overreacting? It is weird that he went home early! You know Kyle, he _never _helps his mom fight against anything!"

"So what if he was interested, just this one time? Isn't it possible that Kyle's mom may be fighting for something worthwhile and Kyle feels he should support her?"

"No. I can say with complete certainty that Kyle would never help his extremist mother launch another troublesome crusade. Something's up."

"Stan, I really don't see cause for alarm. He'll message you later tonight as usual and you'll see how paranoid you're being."

"Wendy…I think…I think he knows."

"That's impossible. Clyde and I are the only ones who know."

"You say that, but…Oh, I don't know! The timing just seems weird. That asshole Clyde brands my locker and then Kyle avoids me like Cartman's…well, Cartman!"

"He wasn't ignoring you!"

"Wendy! He wasn't there in the morning, he didn't sit with me at lunch, and runs home with some bullshit excuse about helping his mom disfranchise Matt Groening. I would have thought he was absent, but you saw him…"

"Stan, this is stupid. So you didn't talk to him today. So what?"

"_So what? _So everything! It takes a considerable effort to avoid your super best friend for the entirety of a day."

"Seriously, you're reading too far into this. Kyle doesn't know about you. He's probably busy. People do things aside from interacting with you, Stan."

"Wendy, it doesn't work that way with Kyle. He and I have nothing else to do than hang out with each other!"

"Now you're just being stubborn."

"Kyle would have to be _really _freaked out to avoid me. This has to be it. He has to know!"

"Kyle wouldn't go that far if he found out!"

"Yes, he would! Could you imagine finding something like this out? That you were unknowingly a part of something so…something so…He'll never speak to me again."

"Stan, please calm down. It'll be okay!" "You're right…you're right. He's probably not avoiding me. I'm just really freaked out about this."

"It's alright! I'd be scared out too in your position. Why don't you go home and relax for a while? You're too stressed."

"I guess I will…Bye, Wendy."

Call ended 3:47 p.m., Thursday, March 18th.

* * *

It's been a rough week, but here we are. Hope you enjoyed!


	5. Chapter 2

**NEWLY CONVERTED GLEE!K**

**Things Worth Notice: (1)** I've decided to branch this story into another domain name, one more serious and angsty. I've really gotten into the drama of things. Kind of cathartic, allowing me an experience I don't have. Ever. My life has been pretty eventless lately...** (2)**I feel like crap for not updating more. I hope to finish the story off with the next chapter. (Not message, actual chapter). **(3) GLEE!**

**Other Less Important Things: (1) **I am absolutely in love with Kurt Hummel from Glee. I'm debating writing Glee fanfics when I have the time. **(2) **I wrote this chapter on my new iTouch! YAY!

* * *

Once again, Kyle's head was spinning at the mercy of Stan's accidental phone calls.

So now he knew that he was personally involved in this secret…More questions spilled into his head.

What was he supposed to do?

Was this any fault of his?

What could he possibly have done?

How could he be involved without knowing it?

He had taken extra precautions to stay out of any shenanigans within the last month because a new gaming system was coming out and he needed to stay on his parents' good side, so nothing recent popped to mind. And now, Stan was convinced that Kyle knew a dire secret of his and was freaking out. Yet again, Kyle was left to wonder how dark a secret Stan must have been keeping to elicit such a strong reaction when he thought it got out.

From the sound of it, this was big enough to jeopardize their friendship.

Was Stan doing something illegal?

Was Kyle involved?

Was he some sort of mule, like the kind that stereotypically carried drugs across borders?

Kyle was still confused, not only with his continued lack of knowledge nut with the newly presented problem of how he was supposed to treat Stan. He was still angry that Stan didn't have enough faith in him to entrust him with something so obviously important. After copious amounts of thought, he decided on continued avoidance. Let Stan sweat it out a little bit longer. It was justified, Kyle reasoned, since Stan was keeping something gargantuan from him.

It struck Kyle, at that moment; he was turning into someone else, someone deeply green with envy and crimson with rage.

It wasn't like him to play sadistic games, to toy with people's feelings. This immaturity was more characteristic of Wendy or Bebe, those particularly moody teenage girls who were convinced that the silent treatment was the best way to express discontent.

The best communication was silence, in this case.

Usually, Kyle simply didn't buy into such paradoxical fallacies, but something about an impending falling out made Kyle uneasy, forcing him to regress into juvenile patterns of behavior. Kyle went to bed with another incredible headache.

~*~*~*~

A thin trill sounded in the distance, wresting Kyle from his slumber.

He awoke, smoothing his ruffled red curls out of reflex. A painful piercing light emanated from the Quickfire vibrating on the adjacent nightstand. Kyle picked it up, sliding the screen up to read the incoming text message. Noting absentmindedly the time, 11:29, Kyle read on.

It was from Stan, typed in an obviously buried manner, filled with spelling errors and fragmented sentences. Already deciding that he would not reply, the drowsy red-haired boy clicked the down button and let the words process.

The message, excluding all typos, read "Kyle, I didn't see you at school today. Dude, gotta talk to you. Meet me by your locker so we don't run into fatass."

Casual, hinting at a sense of urgency. Stan was socially adjusted and he knew how to put on a face, a skill made evident when he began to forget that Kyle was his best friend who would protect his secrets no matter how dark or perverse they may turn out to be. Kyle returned his phone to its evening post and rolled back over, taking only three minutes to fall back asleep.

~*~*~*~

'Stan, that slick motherfucker. Now I can't use my locker tomorrow morning. Guess I'll won't have my notebook for History.' Kyle realized as he backed out of his driveway in his black CR-V.

Perhaps he could haunt the flagpole.

His presence there could be corroborated by Kenny and the idea that Cingular had lost the message would seem viable. This plan had two drawbacks, however. First, it would require him dealing with Cartman. Second, Stan would most likely return to the flagpole when he figured out that Kyle stood him up.

Kyle was resigned to lurking around the library under the pretense of unfinished homework. He loomed over the table furthest away from the doors and windows, tracing jagged lines across the surface of a blank piece of paper to feign production. His thoughts wandered, reaching from his struggles with his super best friend to what kind of obscenely Jewish food his mother packed for him that day.

He nearly fell asleep, focus fadingin and out while he phased in and out, head swaying gently as if he were dizzy.

Roused from his haze by the bell, Kyle sighed and trudged on over to his first class.

~*~*~*~

It had been nearly a week since Kyle had talked to Stan. The frantic boy had, of course, made fervent attempts at regaining his best friend's lost attention, but none of them bore any fruit. Kyle was almost a master at evasion, at least, he thought he was until he saw Stan waiting for him outside of the room, leaning nonchalantly against the doorway.

"Dude, what are you doing here? You're going to be late to class and you already have five tardies. Do you want detention?"

"Maybe I do, Kyle. I do if it means that you have to talk to me." Kyle wrinkled his brow, feeling his cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"What the fuck are you talking about, Stan?"

"You've been avoiding me, Kyle, and I want to know what's up. Are you mad at me?" Kyle sighed, now regretting ditching Stan that morning.

"Stan, this is not the time for that. I'll see you at lunch, ok?" The black haired boy frowned, displeased with Kyle's dismissal.

"No you won't! You're going to find some bullshit excuse to bail on me again. We need to talk and if doing that will make me late, then I'll take the goddamn detention." Kyle moved past him, pulling into the classroom only to be stopped by Stan tugging at his sleeve.

In one smooth motion, Stan yanked Kyle's arm over to the nearest wall and forced his hand to pull the fire alarm.

Kyle's homeroom teacher bolted out of the room to find Kyle, stunned, with his hand clutching loosely at the fire alarm. Stan stood near him, faking shock.

As Kyle was being led forcefully into the principal's office, Stan, now devastatingly tardy, whispered "See you in detention."

Kyle was fuming.

He was fortunate, however, in that he was so well behaved and respected that the principal let him off with only one detention and a warning.

~*~*~*~

The detention was set for the next day and, needless to say, Kyle was less than enthusiastic about having to suffer through half an hour of quiet torture. He still hadn't figured out how to deal with the Stan situation and he wasn't sues how to treat him at school, since detention was set for the next day. It was just as he was pondering this that his phone rang...

* * *

WOO!


	6. Message 3

**Things Worth Notice: (1) **Seriously important! I'm going to take this kind of theme and make it more intense and dramatic. I will finish this story for sure, but the new story will be posted soon, refurbished and (hopefully) less cliche. It'll be called "Vandalized Lockers and Soiled Friendships." **(2) **Once I finish this story, I will most likely focus on the Floor Series and I don't have any major South Park series after the new one I just suggested. I will take requests and I will try to think of more.

**Other Less Important Things: (1) **I'm going crazy. I really don't want softaball season to start up again. I hate it. **(2) **I have no life. I need to get a goddamn boyfriend, but I'm not good enough for anyone I know. *sigh* Back to the emo corner...

ENJOY THE FIC

* * *

Stan Marsh to Kyle Broflovski. 4:16 p.m., Friday, March 25th.

"…And that's it. Kenny, I was…I was hesitant to tell you because, well…I didn't want to tell anyone. And, dude, I get it if you can't hang with me anymore."

"Dude, what the fuck are you talking about? It doesn't make much of a difference. You're overreacting."

"No, I'm not! This is serious."

"Stan, it's really not a big deal. I don't know why you're so freaked out about it."

"B-But Wendy said…Clyde went so far as to write on my locker…"

"Wendy's a bitter bitch who was sick of being your beard and Clyde is just an asshole. Forget about it."

"I guess so, but Kyle's going to flip!"

"You haven't told him yet? Wow, I was sure he'd be the first to know."

"Kenny, I just couldn't. Not this time."

"…OH! Dude, he still wouldn't care."

"I hope you're right. We'll find out tomorrow."

"You're going to tell him?"

"Yeah. In detention."

"How classy."

"Says the guy who lost his virginity behind a dumpster."

"Shove it, dickwad! I'm going to be the better man here and wish you good luck. I'd say you have a sporting chance."

"You are such an asshole."

"You love it."

"Shut up!"

"Well, you are to report to me right after he finds out. I want to know everything, Stan!"

"Fine. I'll dish, but you have to bring the nail polish so we can girl talk properly."

"You would suggest that."

"AGH! You and your goddamn gay jokes. You're such a fucking comedian."

"I'm comfortable enough to mix in a little humor, dude."

"Well, keep it going. You're loosening me up and I need that."

"Why don't you go home and take a nice, soothing bath with some lavender bath salts. You can even straighten your hair and put on some makeup. It's your big day tomorrow!"

"Kenny…I really appreciate this."

"You can thank me by following through with this. Kyle deserves to know."

Call ended 4:25 p.m., Friday, March 25th.

* * *

Finished! Please check out the new story!


End file.
